Free The Courier of Caswell Hall by Melanie Dobson

then he added a narrow hallway behind it to lead to the servants’ staircase.
    Lydia knew well the crack that lined the side of the door. When she was young, she and Sarah would spy on the balls as well, longing to be part of the frivolities. The view of the room was narrow through the crack, but she could hear the music and laughter and the stomping of feet on the wood. As girls, she and Sarah had often pretended they were guests at the ball.
    It wasn’t proper to talk of such things while there was a war, but she did miss the dancing. And she missed her long visits with Sarah.
    When Prudence finished curling Lydia’s tresses, she secured both sides with horn combs. Lydia turned her head and admired her maid’s handiwork in the vanity glass. “It looks lovely.”
    Prudence smiled, and the wrinkles under her eyes crinkled like paper. “Major Reed will be smitten.”
    “I have no interest in smiting any man—except perhaps Seth.” Lydia smiled, but when she looked back at the glass, she saw pity in Prudence’s reflection. Seth might not return to marry her, but she still hated being pitied. “You needn’t feel sorrow for me.”
    Prudence placed the brush back into the top drawer of the dressing table. “Sorrow is what one should feel when another is hurting.”
    Lydia forced a smile. “We should be feeling sorrow for Seth and the other men who are fighting.”
    Opening her jewelry box, Lydia chose a necklace of gold beads and held it around her throat. Prudence clasped it and then added matching earrings before she glanced over her shoulder, at the door still closed behind them. “Yesterday Joshua asked me why I’ve been visiting Elisha’s room.”
    Lydia’s heart sank. A rumor like that would spread like a grass fire. It wouldn’t pay to have the servants talking about Prudence and Elisha, nor did she want to soil Prudence’s reputation by asking her to visit one of their Negroes’ rooms at night.
    “Perhaps you can leave the food for Elisha to take to his room.”
    “Nathan must leave soon,” Prudence said firmly.
    “He is nearly healed.” Lydia examined the necklace in the looking glass. The gold color didn’t look right with her dark red dress. Or perhaps it was the dark bags under her eyes from the late night that altered her appearance.
    “Did Nathan tell you his surname?”
    “He did not,” she said, reaching for a string of milky pearls.
    Prudence changed her necklace and earrings. “I fear you are beginning to care for him.”
    “As a brother, perhaps, but no more.”
    In the looking glass, she saw Prudence raise her eyebrows in question.
    “There is nothing more,” she insisted.
    The door to her bedchamber opened, and Prudence picked up a pot with rice powder. Hannah sauntered into the room, a smile on her face.
    Lydia looked at her in the glass. “Did the major arrive?”
    Hannah shook her head. “But surely he will soon.”
    “I fear you will be disappointed,” Lydia said. Her sister had dressed early and spent the morning traveling from one window to another as they waited for the major.
    “How could I be disappointed?” Hannah paced behind the vanity, and it wearied Lydia to watch her.
    “If you do not stop moving, you shall be too tired to entertain.”
    Hannah shook her head. “I could not possibly be too tired.”
    “Well, you are exhausting me.”
    Hannah lowered herself into the upholstered chair next to Lydia. “You are still hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”
    Lydia’s eyebrows spiked. “Whatever do you mean?”
    Hannah glanced at Prudence as she brushed the rice powder on Lydia’s cheeks and forehead. “Do you not think she’s hiding something?”
    Prudence kept her eyes on Lydia’s neck. “You girls have hidden all sorts of things from me since you were old enough to walk.”
    Hannah planted her hands on her narrow hips. “My sister has been carrying around this secret for a good week, and I intend to find out what it is.”
    Lydia